


Love Cut from Marble

by Frappexo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: And a pinch of xiuho too bc why not, And we can all relate I think, Greek Mythology AU, Inspired by Pygmalion's myth, M/M, There's sulay here, Yixing is in full Simping-Sehun behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frappexo/pseuds/Frappexo
Summary: Yixing is an artist, and a good one at that. But when Junmyeon brings some marble to the studio for him to work on, he finds himself lost in the things this simple stone awakens in him. Things that, in every sense of logic and sanity, don’t make any sense—and shouldn’t really be happening at all.
Relationships: Oh Sehun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Love Cut from Marble

**Author's Note:**

> Haha. Haha. Hahahahhhhh Idk what I was thinking. I’m so sorry. 

A gigantic marble stone stood before him. Yixing calculated more than three meters tall—even if Junmyeon had said it was _“two and fifty-three, Yixing. Please get your estimations right.”_

Junmyeon was the one who had to get his estimations right. This stone was _massive._ There was no way it was less than three.

Frowning, Yixing analyzed it, chisel and hammer in hand.

What was he supposed to do with it? What could he do to make a good use of it?

Hell, he didn’t know.

Apparently, he was carving a person. The stone now had something—a hand. Or more like a trace of four joined fingers and a thumb. Like a mitten. It was still more stone than person, so it could be an alien with a person’s hand. Or given the height, a giraffe. A baby giraffe. With a person’s hand.

It could be anything, if he was honest, but Yixing had no rush to discover it. He wanted his tools to take their time. He was there only to hold them and then get surprised by the result.

Yixing didn’t get surprised by the result at all.

It wasn’t a baby giraffe, but a person, as expected.

The mitten became a hand with full five fingers, long and slender… elegant. It was extended, palm up, as if waiting for someone to hold it. The fine lines traced with such detail that it looked real.

Yixing’s own hands were killing him for holding the chisel for so long. He had started before midday. Now the moon accompanied him; had probably been for a while.

A full day carving _a hand._

What a waste of time.

This person was yet to get a full form, so Yixing couldn’t say how he—she? _They?_ —would turn out. At least the hand looked great.

As he headed home, he promised he would try to hurry the process—why would statues need to be so detailed, anyway?

Some statues _had_ to be detailed, didn’t they? Details were what made them so appealing to the eye.

Yixing told himself so the next day, when he spent the _whole_ day carving a wrist and half a forearm. And the next one, with the rest of the arm and the curve of a shoulder. Then the other one, with the neck and two clavicles.

Like this, days went by, and those then turned into weeks. Yixing was proud of how he was looking so far—because the statue was now a _he._ The stone had evolved into a full torso. With a broad and strong back, defined pecs, the trace of faint abs, a narrow waist. His other arm was there, too, slightly bent, and his hand placed next to where his hip would be.

Sometimes he had to stop to contemplate him. He was impressed. He had really detailed everything as much as he could. If he saw up close, he would catch a glimpse of the natural-looking wrinkles and creases on the marble skin. The statue was far too realistic.

 _The statue…_ It felt impersonal, didn’t it? Yixing didn’t like it.

“Guess we need to give you a name.”

“It’s a miracle, if you ask me,” Junmyeon said, placing a very comfortable hand on Yixing's thigh. “They lost it in the sea a hundred years ago and found it again today.”

Yixing raised his eyebrows.

The sea… a hundred.

Sea a hun.

See… hun.

“Sehun,” he whispered.

“What?”

Yixing shook his head and put a lazy arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders. “How did it get lost, anyway?”

“Good morning, Sehun.”

He got to his studio the next day and stood in front of the statue— _of Sehun_.

“Hope you like your name.”

Whether he liked it or not, Yixing didn’t know. But it was okay. It wasn’t as if Sehun could complain about it, anyway.

Standing on his stool, Yixing caressed the back of a finger over the side of Sehun's head. At his cheek—or where it would be. Sehun was still faceless.

Yixing wanted to finish him, but he didn't know how to do it.

“I don't want to mess you up,” he always told him.

It was true. One mistake and he would ruin him. Sehun didn't deserve that. But after three weeks of tiptoeing around it, Yixing put himself to work. He didn't stop after that. He woke up early, carved, and carved, and carved until late at night, went back home, and repeated. At some point he decided leaving the studio was stupid, so he dropped getting home altogether and arranged a little cot to sleep there instead. He fed off take away. Showered only when needed. Paid his whole attention to Sehun’s face.

Then one day, with the sun beaming next to them, he stepped back to admire the fruits of his effort.

He gasped, loud and clear.

He needed a moment to recover.

Sehun’s face was… perfect.

Perfect nose, perfect brow bone, perfect jaw… perfect lips. He had a faint smile drawn in them. It was barely there, but it was _there_ , and it was perfect. He had detailed his hair, too. It was long enough for it to caress the base of Sehun’s neck. And his eyes… _God, his eyes._ Yixing imagined they would be the color of chocolate. Warm, kind, sparkling, sweet. Could someone have sweet eyes? If nobody could, Sehun would definitely be the first.

Yixing couldn’t look away. It was as if Sehun stared back at him, right into his soul; analyzed him, took him in. It was entrancing. It made Yixing’s heart hammer hard. He loved what he saw.

Perfect. Perfect. _Perfect._

He needed a break. Those weeks had exhausted him and he needed to rest. There were still some details he had to add, without mentioning Sehun was yet to have legs. Yixing had to give him legs. But it was something that could wait. He didn’t think Sehun would mind.

“Would you mind waiting for a little bit?” he asked him, even so.

He stood in front of Sehun and stared up at him—again.

He had finished Sehun’s face a few hours ago, but he hadn’t found the strength to do anything but stare at him. There was something in that face that didn’t seem real. Like something carved by the gods themselves and not him, Yixing, a simple mortal. He was a great artist; he wasn’t ashamed of admitting it. But he was certain nothing he had done before was close to be as wonderful as Sehun was. Nothing he would do would ever be as wonderful as Sehun was. He just knew it.

“Would you?” he asked him again, his voice quieter. He placed a hand over Sehun’s extended one and shivered when the cold stone got in contact with his skin.

Sehun stayed immobile, as he always did, but the faint smile on his lips never faltered—as it never did.

Yixing would never get an answer, he knew that, too; but he was sure Sehun would say he wouldn’t mind if he could.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He gave the marble hand a soft squeeze before walking away.  
  


Yixing wanted to give himself some time away from the studio. To take care of himself before going back to work. But he couldn’t. Whatever he did, wherever he was, he always found himself thinking about the statue waiting for him back there. So after a week, he gave in and went back.

He gave the studio a brief glance. The sun was coming in through the windows, bathing the still massive marble stone from one side. A faint cloud of dust particles was dancing around. The air felt different. It was like… some sort of giddiness floating around along with the dust. He closed the door behind him and made his way towards Sehun.

“Hello. I'm back,” he said. “Did you miss me?”

Running his eyes all over Sehun’s face, he felt his breath hitching. Just a little. He had to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming. But no, he was awake, and yes, Sehun was still as gorgeous as he remembered him.

He noticed how that giddiness in the air felt stronger where he was standing in front of his statue. It felt like… like excitement, and happiness, and thrill were rolling off of Sehun in heavy waves. Like a little kid getting excited over seeing his older brother again in winter, after he had left for uni in the summer. That kind of excitement. Only that it was different, because they weren't brothers. Maybe it was the excitement of a statue, a painting, a piece of art over its creator, knowing the creator was back to continue to work on it. Or maybe it was only Yixing's _own_ excitement for being here again.

He ran the pads of his fingers over Sehun’s extended palm and smiled.

“I missed you, too.”

He wasn’t ready to start carving yet. His hands were still sore. So instead of taking his tools, Yixing chose to spend his time in the studio keeping Sehun company. Some days he spent them painting over old canvases he had abandoned a while ago. Some others he occupied himself with cleaning and arranging the mess the studio was—or at least tried to. He gave up with it before he could do that much. But on many other days, he only lay around, talking to Sehun about anything that came across his mind.

About that old lady at the bakery who always gave him an extra piece of bread because, _“You’re too skinny, Yixing.”_ About his neighbor who made a lot of noise early in the morning and didn’t let him sleep. About that one time he had broken his arm when he was five. About that other one when he was seven and had scraped his knee so bad he had thought he would lose his leg. About what he had dreamed the previous night when he went to bed. About what he daydreamed when he was awake. About his dreams in general. About what made him happy, what angered him, what made him cry, what scared him. About the insistence of his mother to get married already. About how he didn’t want to marry yet. About how he didn’t have a solid plan on what to do with his future… About. About. _About._

It wasn’t like he didn’t have other—real—people to vent to, because he did. But he didn’t feel comfortable enough to expose himself like that with any of them.

Then there was Junmyeon. His status with him wasn’t exactly normal. Junmyeon was like an agent to him, but Yixing believed they were friends, too. The kind of friends who sometimes kissed a little, and sometimes, you know, fucked… a little. But they _were_ friends, and they both were aware about it. It had been Junmyeon's first rule when they crossed that line. And yeah, as a friend, Junmyeon listened. And Junmyeon cared. And Junmyeon was kind, and nice, and a great guy. But Junmyeon always asked questions that, more often than not, Yixing didn’t have an answer to.

So Sehun was his most suitable option—perhaps because Sehun always listened. Because Sehun was the only one who didn’t judge him. Because Sehun couldn’t understand. _Because Sehun was a stone._

And maybe that was what made it all so enjoyable. Yet he couldn’t help wondering sometimes what it would be if Sehun were of flesh and bone.

“It would be nice, don’t you think?” he told him once as he lay on the floor, next to Sehun’s base. “If you were real. Or if I were marble. I don't care which one, just to be the same, you and I… I think it would be nice.”

He knew it was far-fetched, but it was fun to imagine. It wasn’t like he lost anything by doing so, anyway.

“Maybe in another lifetime.”

He smiled, and he was sure that Sehun, in another lifetime, would’ve smiled back.

Eventually, he decided he had slackened long enough. It was time to get back to work. He had to move onto the lower part of Sehun’s body—and so he did.

He started with the base. He gave him a proper one, about fifty centimeters tall. That one was easy. It only took him two days. On top of that base, he continued with Sehun's feet; each took him a week. He gave him a pair of toned legs, just because he could grant his statue a well-shaped figure—two weeks each.

He had lost all sense of time. He only came back to it when one day Junmyeon came to the studio, completely unannounced.

Yixing was standing on his stool, eye level with Sehun. He was staring into those marble eyes. Pretending they could blink, move, and reflect the life Sehun didn't have. He had been so focused that he startled when the door opened, almost falling from the stool.

“Jesus, tell me you're coming in the next time!” Yixing exclaimed as he hopped down.

Junmyeon was looking around. He had the face of someone who couldn't believe what their eyes were seeing. “This place looks like a dumpster.”

Yixing, for the first time in weeks, took his time to examine his surroundings. Empty boxes of food were scattered around. Furniture other than his desk, his stool, and the little cot he had arranged to sleep, was covered in dust. It was like an old house nobody had stepped foot in for years. It did look like a dumpster.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Junmyeon walked over to the desk. He had a pair of bags in one hand. Yixing peeped a container and some napkins.

“You don't answer my calls. You don't reply to my texts. I never interrupt your creative process, but it's been _three_ _weeks_ since I—” Junmyeon made a pause to make room for the bags on the desk. “Since I last knew about you. When was the last time you went home? Or even bothered to shower? Or at least got a proper meal?”

Yixing gestured at Sehun. “I've been busy.”

Junmyeon's eyes jumped from Yixing to Sehun and his eyebrows went high up his forehead. “Is that the stone I brought?”

“Yeah.”

“Yixing…”

“I know.”

Yixing _did_ know. That it wasn't easy to process. That Sehun's perfection was something else. He didn't rush him. He let Junmyeon stare at Sehun for a long time, until he had recovered enough to look back at him.

“How did you…” Junmyeon started. _“Where_ did you find this person? I had never… Who's the one that inspired… _that?”_

Yixing shrugged. Junmyeon blinked.

“Who is it?”

“I don't know.” Yixing shrugged again. “I didn't use anyone. He just… appeared.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don't know if there's someone out there looking like this.” Yixing waved his hand in front of Sehun. He got goosebumps at the possibility of someone, a _real_ someone, looking like Sehun. “But if there is, I don't know them, nor have I ever seen them before.”

“Then how—”

 _“I don't know.”_ Sighing, Yixing walked towards the desk. He stood next to Junmyeon and fiddled with the tools he had scattered on it. “I didn't have a purpose when I started him. I just hit the stone with the hammer and then he was here.”

Junmyeon gave him a weird look. Yixing stared back at Sehun. He wasn't lying or hiding something. Sehun was born from that massive marble stone without him using a model. And it _was_ weird, because he didn't carve people unless he had someone to inspire the statue on. A model. But it had been different with Sehun. As if he had always been there, inside the stone, waiting for someone to get him out of it.

“You need to go home,” Junmyeon eventually said instead. He traced a finger over Yixing’s forehead, combing away his bangs. “Take a bath. Sleep in a bed. Rest for a while. You need it.”

Yixing shook his head. “What I need is to finish him.”

“It's already done.”

“No, he's not.”

“It looks fine to me.”

 _“He_ looks fine,” Yixing said, emphasizing the pronoun. Sehun wasn't an _it._ “But he's not done. There are still some details I need to add and, hadn't you noticed he doesn't have a crotch?”

Junmyeon looked back at Sehun for a moment, then shook his head. “You can do that later if you insist, but now please go home.” He traced a finger over Yixing's cheek, his voice coming out gentler. “Or come over mine. You can spend the night and in the morning I'll drive you back.”

Yixing stepped back and shook his head. “I need to finish him.”

He took a random chisel and a hammer from the desk and walked back to Sehun. He dragged his stool to stand behind him and climbed up. Now that the back of Sehun's head was in front of him, he wanted to run his fingers through those defined locks of hair. It was a shame they weren't real. He would bet they would be soft.

Placing the chisel on Sehun, he started to hit him with the hammer. His hair was perfect, but he wanted to pretend it wasn't so he had something to do.

“I'll leave the food here if you want it,” Junmyeon said. “Call me when you feel like going back to the real world.”

The sound of the chisel hitting the stone masked Junmyeon's steps. When Yixing heard the door close, he stopped it.

Heaving a deep, long sigh, he dropped his head, placing his forehead in the back of Sehun's neck. His hands traveled all the way down to Sehun's waist. He made sure not to drag the chisel over the marble so he wouldn't scratch it.

He felt bad. He knew Junmyeon was worried, but… but Junmyeon didn't understand. Sehun wasn't complete yet. Besides, he didn't want to go home yet. At least not with him. Because whatever he had with Junmyeon, he wasn't interested in it anymore. The only interest in his life now was Sehun, but he wasn't going to tell Junmyeon that.

Sehun was glaring at him.

Yixing felt it in the back of his head.

He didn't know _how,_ but he _could_ feel it.

There had been a negative change in the air ever since Junmyeon was gone. But the change hadn't come from him. He didn't feel any different. He was still the same as he had been before Junmyeon had come.

Sehun, on the other hand… He did feel different. As if he were… mad. Angry. Disappointed? Upset.

Sehun was upset.

Why was he, though?

Yixing turned around from the desk, where he had been eating. He faced Sehun and stared back at him. He knew those eyes by heart now. The gentle way the marble creased around them, with mirth, and joy, and everything that was beautiful and pure in this world.

But all that was gone now.

_Yixing could see it._

Sehun's marble stare was cold. Distant. Like that you gave to someone who had hurt you.

“What is it?”

Sehun didn’t reply— _obviously._ He just glared and Yixing felt his stomach churn.

“Are you mad at me?”

The glare didn't change. And then the thought crossed Yixing's mind. He raised his eyebrows and stood up, slowly getting closer to Sehun.

“Is it because of Junmyeon?”

It had to be… didn't it? Not that Sehun could… feel or… think… or see. Or anything. He just—

“It's over,” Yixing blurted out, not analyzing what he was saying or even thinking. He wasn't thinking. “He's only my friend and whatever happened, it won't ever again. I don't want to be with him. I want to… to be…”

He frowned. He couldn't come up with the words he wanted to add to that sentence. He didn't _want_ to think about them. He wasn't even sure if he was making any sense.

Shaking his head, he stepped on the stool so he could be eye level with Sehun once again. He looked at him and, for a very brief moment, wished Sehun could look back. His eyes went down and stopped on Sehun's lips. Yixing looked at them for a second way too long, then moved back to his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and leaned in to place a soft kiss on Sehun’s cheek.

He went back to the floor and turned around. He retrieved his phone and keys, and headed to the door. He was going home, after all. Junmyeon would be pleased. Though he was going not because he wanted to. It was more because… because it felt like Sehun needed some space. And because, maybe, Yixing did, too.

It was as though it had never happened. Yixing walked into the studio the next morning and was hit with the same giddy air he was so used to by now.

Sehun was back to his normal self.

Yixing was relieved.

So much that, as soon as he was on his stool, he squished himself between Sehun's marble arms. The stone was cold, as it always was during the morning. Though Yixing welcomed the feeling when he surrounded Sehun's neck with his arms. He stayed there until he felt the stone getting warm. Before he removed himself from Sehun, he pecked his jaw and heaved a contented sigh.

“We need to get moving,” he said and got off the stool. He looked around for a chisel and a hammer, and got back to work.

He had meant it when he said he wanted to detail Sehun more. He had thought about it all night. Maybe if he continued working, Sehun wouldn't be mad anymore. That wasn't needed anymore, it seemed, but still, he wanted to go ahead with his ideas. He had thought about how he could try to add Sehun more of those natural wrinkles the skin had. Or maybe some scars or some moles. Could he carve moles? He didn't know if that was possible, but he could try. To make him more realistic—even more than he already did.

Plus, as he had also told Junmyeon, he had to give Sehun a groin. He hadn't carved him clothes, meaning he was naked and the marble between his legs still was smooth.

So there was a lot to do.

For weeks, he did nothing but to detail. Hitting the chisel here, carving the marble there. He didn't manage to find a way to give Sehun moles, but a few wrinkles did appear. No scars, though. The marble skin was so perfect, he didn't want to ruin it.

Once he was done with that, he spent another ridiculous amount of time trying to come up with a way to give Sehun the only thing he was missing. It wasn't like he didn't know how to do it, per se. He did. He had sculpted many people before. He knew the anatomy. Though for some reason, when it came to Sehun's body, something felt different. He wasn't ready to move onto that space of smooth, uncarved marble between Sehun's legs.

Not yet.

It made him nervous. Anxious. A little overwhelmed, too.

But he knew he had to finish. He had never left a statue incomplete, and Sehun for sure wouldn't be the first. So he had no other option but to go ahead and pray he wouldn't mess him up.

Thus he spent another whole month carving. He let, as he had that first day, his tools take their time. He didn't rush them. He didn't push them. He let them work at their own rhythm until the chisel hit Sehun one last time. And as it had happened with Sehun's face, Yixing took a step back to see the full outcome.

He, again, gasped, loud and clear.

He, again, needed a moment to recover.

Sehun was perfect, Yixing had always known it; had always seen it. But now that Sehun was a full, complete human—or more like _looked_ like a full, complete human—Yixing didn't know what to do with himself.

He stared at him. At his perfect nose, perfect brow bone, perfect jaw, perfect lips, and perfect eyes.

Perfect. Perfect. _Perfect._

He couldn’t help but run his eyes down Sehun’s torso and stop in the middle of his legs. His hands were throbbing, tired from all the hard work. He had spent a long, long time carving the area, only letting them rest when the pain was unbearable. He worked with such dedication, he might as well had been carving the statue of God themself.

Yixing examined this last part that completed Sehun with such intent, he felt his blood running all the way to his cheeks. He looked away and cleared his throat. He had seen his fair amount of cocks before; both to sculpt and to meet his own needs. He himself had one. But Sehun's… He just…

He looked back at it.

He felt the blood traveling now all the way from his cheeks down to his—

He frowned.

It was time to go out and breathe some fresh air. He had spent much time enclosed by these walls.

Dropping his tools on the floor, Yixing took his jacket and left the studio in a rush.

The following days, Yixing spent them trying not to fret over Sehun’s nudity. It wasn’t like he was a prude or anything. He wasn’t. But looking at Sehun always provoked weird things to stir deep inside his being. He had to do something about it to avoid it. So he brought a curtain from home in the hopes he could use it to make Sehun some clothes. Because he obviously needed them. Now Sehun was wearing this horrible olive green curtain like a skirt.

“There you go,” he said, pulling a final tight knot around Sehun's waist.

He gave a step back. Tilting his head to the side, he stared at Sehun’s new… attire. He snorted.

“You look ridiculous.”

Sehun didn’t react, but he was sure that, at this point, the statue would be glaring at him. Or whining. Or even worse, pouting—he wondered if Sehun would be one to do such things. He had a feeling he would. Or that was what he wanted to think, anyway.

Since he wasn’t on his stool, he had Sehun's stomach in front of him. He placed a careful hand on it and patted him twice.

“Don't feel that bad,” he said and smiled up at him. “You're still gorgeous, even like this.”

_Yixing opened the curtains to let the sun come in. It was a lovely day. With a blue cloudless sky and the calm ocean visible from where he was standing at the window._

_He walked back to the bed and flopped onto it, landing face down on a huge bundle of blankets. He buried his face in the back of the head occupying the pillow next to his._

_The bundle groaned._

_Yixing smiled._

_“Wake up…”_

_The bundle groaned again._

_“Come on.” Yixing pressed his lips against the bundle’s neck. “Today you’ll learn how to swim, remember?”_

_At this, the bundle reacted. His voice came out hoarse. “I don’t have to wear a curtain, do I?”_

_Yixing snorted. “No, you don’t.”_

_“Alright,” the bundle said. He turned around and pulled Yixing towards him. “But later. Let’s go back to sleep first.”_

_Yixing wasn’t sleepy anymore, but he buried into that pair of arms, anyway._

Yixing woke up feeling something in his chest.

He had dreamed.

Blue sky without clouds; the ocean in front of his house—had it been his house? A bed. A bundle. No, not a bundle. A guy. A guy, half asleep. His boyfriend? A lover? Some random hook-up? It didn’t seem a random hook-up.

Yixing blinked a couple of times. He had already started to forget. He shrugged. He got out of bed. He had to go back to check on Sehun. He went on with his day. He didn’t remember the dream again.

“And I thought, ‘ _How hard can it be?’_ I just had to chunk the stone until I got a face, right? But I had never done a bust before, so the result was a disaster.”

Yixing was kneeling in front of Sehun. He had decided a couple of days ago he wanted to give the base an engraved design so it wouldn’t be a plain and smooth surface. He hadn’t known what to do at first, so he let his hands work—as per usual. They came up with waves. The more he carved, the more it reminded him of the ocean.

“In my defense, though, I had told Mr. Yang I didn't have any experience with busts when he asked for it. He didn’t care.” He looked up and gave Sehun a wry smile. “Serves him right for not listening.”

“Yixing?”

Turning his head around, Yixing found Junmyeon standing at the door.

“Oh,” he said. He scrambled to his feet and dusted off his knees. “Hello.”

“What are you doing?” Junmyeon asked and walked in.

Yixing moved towards the desk. “I'm carving on the base.”

Junmyeon stepped next to him. He gave the base a glance and nodded. “It looks pretty.”

Yixing hummed in affirmation and placed his tools on the desk.

“What's it…?” Junmyeon gestured at Sehun.

“Oh, that?” Yixing stared at Sehun's ugly curtain skirt. “It's nothing. A curtain.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But why?”

 _Why,_ he asked. Why what? Why was he wearing it? Why was it a curtain and not a sheet? Maybe, why was it olive green and not white? Why. Why? _Why what?_

“Just…” Yixing waved his hand nonchalantly in the air. He didn't have a proper answer.

“Just…?”

“Just a curtain to cover him, I guess? I don't know.”

“But why did you put it there?”

Why? Why? Why? Hell, _why?_

“Because he may need it,” Yixing said, hoping Junmyeon wouldn’t ask any further. He didn’t have such luck.

“What do you mean?”

“I… It will sound ridiculous, but we don’t know if he’s a timid marble statue, alright? Or self-conscious of his nudity, or _something._ So I brought this horrible curtain and wrapped it around his waist to cover him with it.”

Junmyeon blinked at him, then a deep frown settled between his eyebrows. “Have you been sleeping lately? Are you—?” he put the back of his hand on Yixing's forehead. Yixing backed away. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Yixing didn’t like the way Junmyeon was looking at him. As if he had grown another head.

Junmyeon stared at him some more, then sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could…” he said, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “It's a statue, Xing. I'm certain it doesn't have a mind. But even if it did, you carved it. I'm sure it wouldn't care if you saw its naked self.”

 _“He,”_ Yixing muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“He,” Yixing repeated, louder. “The pronoun. Not _it; he.”_

Junmyeon opened his mouth, but no words came out. In the end, he sighed again. He reached Yixing's hand and gave it a squeeze. Yixing didn't return it.

“Just came to check on you, but I can see you're…” Junmyeon looked at Sehun and frowned. “Call me if you need anything. And please do take the curtain away. _He_ looks ridiculous.”

Letting go of Yixing's hand, he turned around and walked out the studio.

Yixing frowned at his back, then at the door when Junmyeon wasn't there anymore. He huffed.

“He doesn't look ridiculous,” he muttered, then looked at Sehun. “Don't listen to him.”

The statue was standing there, hand extended at his front. It looked as though he were waiting for Yixing to approach—so Yixing did. He held Sehun's hand and with his thumb caressed the marble skin.

“I did say you looked ridiculous, but I was only teasing you. I promise you don't.”

Not letting go of the hand, he kicked his stool closer and stood on it. He stared at Sehun's eyes and with his free hand caressed Sehun's jaw.

“Would you like me to get rid of the curtain, though? I could do that… if you want.”

Sehun didn't reply— _oh, how Yixing wished Sehun could reply_ —but maybe his natural silence was enough to answer. Maybe it meant he didn't need the curtain. Maybe Junmyeon was right.

Yixing gulped and looked down at Sehun's waist, where the curtain had been secured for days. Slowly, carefully, he moved his hands to hold the knot. He took in a deep breath, released it.

It wasn't a big deal. Again, maybe Junmyeon was right—no, not _maybe._ Junmyeon _was_ right. Sehun was a statue and statues didn't have self-consciousness. They didn't have consciousness, full stop. So, whether he was naked or not, Sehun wasn't aware of it. Right?

“Right.”

Without thinking it too much, he undid the knot. He let go of the fabric and saw how it ran down Sehun's legs until it pooled around his feet. He gulped again, hoping the weird lump in his throat would disappear. It didn't. He didn't care. He didn't even notice. His brain was focused on something else, his eyes fixed between Sehun's legs.

Sehun looked so real.

So, so real that he could be mistaken for a real person—were his skin another color other than marble white.

As he stared, Yixing wondered what it would be like having a real person who looked like Sehun in this world. How it would be like to know them. To hold their hand. To touch them. To feel their warmth.

Yixing placed a careful hand on Sehun's stomach and touched every firm plain on his abdomen. Sehun wasn't warm, but he knew how long he had to caress him for the marble to lose its coldness. So he took his time exploring, hoping he could warm Sehun enough for his own imagination to pretend he was alive. Then his hand went down, and down, and down, until it hovered right under Sehun's navel.

He shivered and a shaky breath left his lips. His brain finally clicked again. He frowned and retrieved his hand as though the marble had burned him. He blinked, cleared his throat, and stepped down the stool.

“I gotta go,” he said and walked towards the door, not even once looking back.

_Another body behind him. Slender fingers holding his hips tight, making sure he didn’t move. His toes curling, his fingers clutching to the sheets. His hair damp and stuck to his forehead._

_Yixing turned around, glancing over his shoulder. Only a silhouette was visible from down there. The sunlight coming through the window behind them made the man look like nothing but a shadow._

_He smiled, nonetheless, for he still knew who the other was._

_This other man was pounding into him, hard, fast. Then harder, faster. Until Yixing was a mess and he was seeing stars behind his eyelids._

_He felt it in his belly. The heat. The need. The desire. The want._

_He wanted to…_

_He wanted…_

_He wanted…_

_He wanted…_

_He…_

_He exploded._

_And a name slipped off his lips._

_“Sehun…”_

Yixing woke up with a start, his heart hammering hard inside his chest. It took him a moment to come back to his senses. When he did, he realized a few things.

One—he felt disgusting.

Two—he felt disgusting because he was drenched in sweat.

Three—he was drenched in sweat because he had dreamed. A very explicit and horny dream.

Four—apparently his very explicit and horny dream had been _really_ _good,_ because he had a boner. A very hard and painful boner. Like a teenager, _Jesus Christ._

Five—the memory of the person he had been with in his dream was super vivid in his mind and…

Jumping out of bed, Yixing headed to his bathroom. He opened the tap, got under the shower, and dragged himself down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. As he let the cold water soak him and his clothes, he took a deep, deep breath, held it in, enjoyed how his lungs burned, and—

Six—he had lost it. He had oh-so-fucking lost it.

It was needless to say he didn’t step on the studio that day… nor in the next thirty days.

He had already decided he would only come during the day and go back home at night. No more sleeping over at the studio. No more staying the night.

It shouldn't go wrong, though he knew this was a terrible idea. He had spent a month away for a reason. He thought it would help him, in any way possible, to get rid of his… whatever it was he was feeling. But it didn’t. In fact, it only got worse. The more he stayed away from the studio, the more he felt like something was missing. The more he felt like suffocating. It left him with no other option but to go back. For his own sanity—supposing there was any left—he had to.

So now that he was back, he pushed the door open not thinking it twice. It crashed against the wall, making a thud sound. Dust flew around and some papers fell to the floor—maybe he should really start cleaning more often. His eyes jumped from one corner to the other, unfocused, until they came across what he had come to see. The one and only thing—person, being, _whateve_ r—he had been _craving_ to see.

He closed the door, this time being careful with it. He let a few moments pass, gulped, and walked in, heading to stand in front of Sehun.

He still had engraved in his mind how the air had changed that day when Junmyeon had come and Sehun had got upset. How his marble stare had been cold, and distant, and nothing like he was so used to see. This time, though… This time it wasn’t that different. Except it was worse, because what Yixing saw in those eyes was nothing like that day. Sehun wasn't upset. No. _This time,_ Sehun was sad. Yixing just knew it, as he knew everything else when it came to Sehun.

His heart climbed up to clog his throat. He didn’t know what to do. His hand hovered over Sehun’s extended palm. He wanted to hold it, but he didn’t know if Sehun would allow him.

“May I?” he asked, but he didn’t wait.

He flinched when he touched the cold marble. He stepped closer, aware of how the curtain was still at Sehun’s feet. He placed his forehead on Sehun’s stomach and closed his eyes.

“I…” he croaked. His voice cracked a little, so he tried again. “I guess I… owe you an explanation.”

He swallowed. He wanted to push his heart away from his throat, but it didn’t budge. He still felt it there, preventing the air from flowing in and out his lungs.

“You need to know that you didn’t— It wasn't— I had to—”

He winced.

Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he force the words out? He knew what he had to say—what he _wanted_ to say—but he didn’t know how to say it.

He was being ridiculous. He shouldn’t be giving explanations to… to _a statue_. Why was he talking to Sehun, to begin with? He was talking to a lifeless object, which was almost the same as talking to himself. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? That Sehun was a statue, _but_ Yixing didn’t want him to be one. He wished he could do anything to change this small fact. He knew it was impossible, but he still wished.

He straightened his head and stared up at Sehun. He was so, so gorgeous and so, so perfect. And yet he wasn’t alive.

“Please talk to me.”

Sehun didn’t speak. Sehun didn’t move. Sehun was still Sehun and nothing would ever change it.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yixing released Sehun’s hand. He carefully pushed the stool close and stepped on it. He wrapped his arms around Sehun’s waist and placed his head on his shoulder, burying his face under his chin.

“You're messing with my mind,” he mumbled, his lips slightly touching the marble. “But I promise I'll never leave you again.”

The dreams didn't stop and every time he woke up, they left him feeling empty. Still, he stuck to his promise and didn't stop going to the studio. Even if it meant going back home with an even bigger void in his chest every day, and pretending everything was alright the next day.

Yixing drew another line on the paper, outlining the curve that was Sehun's nose. As of lately, with nothing else to do to perfect Sehun, he had resorted to draw him instead. Sometimes he drew him completely, sometimes only his face—like right now. Sometimes he drew only his eyes. Sometimes he preferred to focus on his hands, or his legs, or the muscles of his back.

He enjoyed doing it. It was another way to capture Sehun’s perfection and beauty. Without mentioning it helped him get a hold of himself whenever he began to stare too much at the marble figure next to him.

Right now, he was almost done with his current drawing. He only had to polish the eyebrows and a bit of the lips, and then it would be—

The door opened and he looked up from his sketchpad. Junmyeon was standing there, with another man he didn’t recognize behind him.

“Hello, Xing! Do we interrupt?”

Yixing dropped the sketchpad and his charcoal on the desk and clapped his hands to get rid of the dust. “Not at all. Come in.”

“Great!” Junmyeon moved aside to let the other man walk in, then closed the door behind them. “Minseok, this is Zhang Yixing. Yixing, this is Kim Minseok. He’s a collector.”

“Oh.” Yixing perked at that. This could only be good news. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing of that!” Minseok said, smiling at him. He was about the same height as Junmyeon. Brunet. With a pair of impressive brown eyes that reminded Yixing of a cat he had drawn when he was still at school. “Please call me Minseok. We’re almost the same age, anyway.”

Yixing nodded, offering a polite smile back.

“As I said, he’s a collector.” Junmyeon smiled, too, going into full-agent mode. He was ready to sell and Yixing was more than willing to cooperate. “We met a couple of nights ago at the bar and your art, Xing, came up in our conversation. I talked about what you usually do and he seemed pretty interested in seeing what you’ve been working on lately.”

“Ah, that’s…” Yixing side-glanced at Sehun and the thought of hiding him popped in his mind. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Well, thank you. I’m flattered.”

“We only have Junmyeon here to thank,” Minseok said, his smile never faltering. “He speaks of your talent the same as a salesman speaks of his cars.”

“Yixing's talent is way better than any car,” Junmyeon said, making himself comfortable on the chair Yixing had been a few moments ago. “He paints, sculpts, designs, sometimes photographs.” He peeked at Yixing’s sketchbook and raised an eyebrow. “He draws, too.”

“Is there anything you might be interested in, Minseok?” Yixing asked, hoping Junmyeon wouldn't read too much into his sketch. “Do you collect paintings or…?”

“Paintings, yes…” Minseok drawled, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes were fixed to their side, his mouth half agape. “I like… paintings.”

Yixing followed his line of vision, though he already knew where Minseok was looking at. He cleared his throat. “What— What kind of paintings?”

Nobody spoke for a moment and Yixing stared helplessly as Minseok walked to where Sehun was.

“Does it have a name?” Minseok asked, looking up at the statue.

 _He,_ Yixing thought.

“It doesn’t,” Junmyeon said. “At least I’ve never heard of it. Did you name it, Xing?”

_He._

“No, wait. He,” Junmyeon corrected. Yixing narrowed his eyes at him and he only widened his smile.

Minseok teared his eyes away from Sehun. “Huh?”

“He,” Junmyeon repeated. “Yixing likes to give some sort of… identity to his sculptures. It lets him feel closer to them. So this one”—he gestured at Sehun—”is a _he.”_

Minseok's gaze went back to Sehun. “That's kind of obvious, isn't it? We only need to look between his legs to notice.”

“Alright, so. Paintings,” Yixing said, trying to move their conversation back to where it was supposed to be. “You collect paintings, Minseok. Do you have any kind of… concept? We could start from there. See what you would like me to paint.”

“He's glorious,” Minseok mumbled, his voice in awe. “Who did you inspire yourself with? I can't imagine someone looking like this in real life.”

“He doesn't want to tell,” Junmyeon quipped. He was staring down at Yixing's sketchpad. “This man is unknown even to me, so we’ll say the statue was born thanks to a divine force.”

Yixing frowned. The tone Junmyeon was using was more sarcastic than he liked it.

“Ah…” Minseok slowly nodded and faced them again. “I can't blame you, Yixing. He's gorgeous. I would like to keep that information for myself, too, if I were you.”

Yixing shook his head. “No, that's not—”

“Do you know the myth about Pygmalion and Galatea?” Minseok asked, completely out of topic.

“Is it Greek?” Junmyeon asked back, pushing aside the sketchpad. He crossed his arms on top of the desk.

“Yeah.”

“What's it about?”

“Well, the story goes that Pygmalion was a sculptor who kind of despised women. Until one day, he sculpted a woman of such beauty, he fell in love with her; he called her Galatea. He was so desperate to be with her, that he prayed to Aphrodite to bring Galatea to life. The goddess visited him to check the statue. Pleased to see how much Galatea's beauty resembled hers, she decided to grant him his wish. She turned the statue into a real woman.”

Yixing’s chest clenched in a weird way. He looked at Sehun's extended hand and his fingers twitched. He ignored how intense Junmyeon’s stare felt on him.

“I can definitely not blame Pygmalion,” Minseok added, his eyes moving back to Sehun. “If Galatea looked as good as this statue here, even I would fall in love with one.”

At this, both Junmyeon and Minseok laughed, and Yixing tried hard not to grimace. He didn't get why they were laughing. It wasn't funny.

“Anyway,” Minseok said, his smile getting softer. “How much are you asking for him?”

Yixing blinked, his brain not catching up fast enough. “What?”

“His price.” Minseok jerked his head towards Sehun. “How much do you want for him?”

Yixing blinked again. “He… He's not—”

“We haven't decided yet,” Junmyeon interrupted. “We've discussed it, but you know how this goes. Artists never find good enough prices for their art.”

Yixing frowned again, staring at Junmyeon. That wasn’t true. They had never discussed such thing. What was he on about?

Minseok hummed. “Let me know once you decide, in that case. I wanna be the first on the list.”

Yixing, though displeased, still nodded and smiled, hoping it looked less fake than what he felt it.

After arranging all the details for the painting, Minseok left, leaving them alone. As Junmyeon closed the door, Yixing sat at the desk.

“So…” Junmyeon started, as he took a seat next to him. “What do you think?”

“About?”

“Minseok. Did you like him?”

“He’s fine.”

“He is,” Junmyeon agreed. “I've been struggling for a while to find you projects, you know? He appeared at the best of times. And as we talked about how much he liked art, I realized he was the one.”

“The one for what?”

“For the statue.”

Yixing’s eyebrows went up and his lips twisted in discomfort.

“You finished it a while ago,” Junmyeon continued, adding a shrug to it. “You’ve already done your job, so I guessed it was already time for me to do mine.”

“But Minseok said he only collects paintings.”

“He could start collecting statues, too. Who are we to decide what he has to buy?”

“He can certainly buy a statue if he wants, but he’s not buying—” Yixing stopped when Sehun’s name almost slipped from his lips. “I don’t want to sell him the statue. He’s not the one.”

“Then I’ll find you another one, no problem. With those looks”—Junmyeon waved his hand at Sehun—”I’m sure we'll find an owner soon.”

“Why are you looking for buyers, anyway?” Yixing asked, frowning. “We’ve never discussed it. You didn’t even know what I wanted to do.”

Junmyeon rolled his eyes. “I brought you the marble stone so you had something to do until I found you another real project. You didn’t have to turn it into something decent, yet you went and sculpted that thing. It looks good, so we should make the most of it and sell it to the best bidder.”

“But I don’t want to sell him.”

“And what are you planning to do, then? It’s not like you have somewhere to place it.”

“Haven’t you thought that maybe I want to keep him for myself?”

Junmyeon narrowed his eyes at him and gave him a long, contemplative stare. Then, in a low voice, said, “Minseok was a nice hook-up, too.”

Yixing made a face, not getting how both things were even related. But when he understood, he only managed to hum and nod, not even making an effort to hide his detachment to the matter. It was obvious Junmyeon wanted to pull out a reaction from him. But honestly, the only thing in his mind was, _‘Good for you, man.’_ He couldn’t care less about Junmyeon’s affairs.

This, of course, didn’t please Junmyeon in the slightest. He scoffed, his head shaking. “So you really don’t care anymore.”

Doing his best not to show an annoyed face, Yixing sighed and closed his eyes. “Listen—”

“This is why I was looking for a buyer,” the other said, pointing a finger at him. “Since that statue appeared, you’ve been acting weird. What’s been with you these past months? You’re so different! You’ve changed!”

Yixing snorted and shook his head. “You’re talking nonsense.”

He stood up, took a random chisel, and headed towards his stool. He went up, his eyes intent over Sehun to catch something he had to fix. He wasn’t surprised to see there was nothing to fix—perfect, perfect, _perfect._

“Yixing, _you_ are the nonsense,” Junmyeon retorted from behind him. “It’s like you’re obsessed over that piece of marble, losing yourself completely. You do nothing but be here, all day long. Doing what, only God knows! You get home late at night and leave even before the sun is up! That’s what your landlord has told me, at least.”

Yixing snapped his head back at him. “Have you been asking around?”

“I have, but it’s only—”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“—because I’m worried about you!”

“I don’t need your worry!”

“You’ve been acting like a maniac and it needs to stop!”

“I have not!” Yixing exclaimed, his hands waving in the air. He could feel the anger accumulating in his chest, burning him like a fire clinging to him from the inside.

“This is getting out of control. It’s ridiculous! I'm going to find someone to buy this thing so I can get it out of your life for good!”

“Fuck you!” Yixing yelled. The fire exploded and the anger couldn’t be contained anymore. _“Fuck you!_ Get out of my studio!”

With his hands still flailing around, the anger died abruptly, making way to a dread he had never experienced before. He felt it before his mind processed it—felt the chisel in his hand touching something. Felt the chisel dragging down, scratching _that_ something. Felt the chisel falling down and clinking against the floor when he let it go.

He heard Junmyeon saying, “You need to get a hold of yourself.”

He heard him standing up and heading to the door.

He heard him slamming the door once he was out.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t pay him attention.

With his eyes wide and his heart on his throat, Yixing turned to face Sehun. The air held still for a moment. Then a strangled sound left his lips once he saw what he already knew.

There, on Sehun’s face, right on his cheek, was a scratch.

He had scratched Sehun’s cheek.

He had hurt him.

His legs gave in. He fell off the stool and landed on the floor. He grunted, though he didn’t feel any sort of pain. Not any other than the one he already felt inside his chest.

“Sehun…” he whispered.

He didn’t receive a reply.

Then the first tear fell and a sob reached his ears. He couldn’t keep them at bay, so one after the other escaped his eyes and lips. His dread only increased. It filled his mind, then crept down his chest and stayed there. It crushed him until there wasn’t enough air to breathe. He wanted the ground to open up for him and swallow him. Prevent him from facing the world that was nothing but a cruel reality to him.

It was this that made him realize he wasn’t sobbing because he had scratched Sehun’s cheek. He truly felt sorry he had ruined the marble in such a careless reaction, but that wasn’t it. No—it was the fact that he was lost; that he _had_ lost. He had fallen in love with a statue and there was nothing he could do about it.

He hadn’t intended for it to happen, but it still had. Now Junmyeon wanted to take Sehun away from him. To sell him to some random person who would take Sehun with them—away from _him_ —for good.

He couldn't bear it.

The mere thought of it happening had his chest contracting even harder. He bent down over himself. One hand falling on the floor to support himself, the other clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t know what time it was, but the sun was still coming in through the window, washing him from above.

He stared at the shadows under his hand, his mind wandering back to Minseok’s myth retelling. Of Pygmalion and his nonsensical love towards a statue.

 _Fitting,_ he thought, as he took in a sharp breath.

At least Pygmalion had got what he wanted. He got his woman and probably lived happily ever after. Because he had prayed to a goddess. And she had heard him. And she had allowed him to have… to have everything he himself wanted.

He wondered for a moment if that would help. To pray. To ask someone up there in the sky to let him have it, too. To let him share the same fate with this Pygmalion man.

He looked up at the window. He narrowed his eyes when the sun hit him, though it didn’t stop him from speaking his mind.

 _Please don’t take him away from me,_ he wished upon the sky, hoping some deity would take some pity on him.

He was going mad. Probably had long ago, but the idea of losing Sehun was killing him inside out. Junmyeon was an idiot. He didn't understand. He just didn't understand!

_Please don’t take him away from me._

Sehun was everything he had.

_Please don’t take him away from me._

He couldn’t lose him.

_Please don’t take him away from me._

He didn’t want to lose him.

_Please don’t take him away from me._

_Please don’t take him away from me._

_Please don’t take him away from me._

He wouldn't know how to live anymore if they took Sehun away from him.

_Please don’t take him away from me._

He could see him crying and gasping for air on the floor. He had always been able to see—to see everything; to see _him._ He had always seen him, even before he had got his eyes. He had always been there. There, in the world. Traveling all over it, knowing about it from the perspective of a simple marble stone. Then, he had found his way to the studio. Still as a stone, but feeling things he had only heard about and had never experienced before.

He still didn’t know how he had been so lucky to end up here. Even more so to end up becoming a full person and not only a torso, or a pair of hands, or a headless body—or even worse, an elephant, or a lion, or a mythological creature, like so many of the other stones had. Although he wouldn’t have minded if that had been the case. It wouldn’t have been ideal, but he still would’ve been grateful. Because no matter his shape, he still would’ve been able to meet him.

To meet him.

Him.

He.

Yixing.

_His Yixing._

He had always seen him, but this time it was different. This time Yixing wasn’t talking to him, or smiling at him, or caressing him, or touching him. He wasn’t even close to him. He couldn’t reach him. He wanted to reach him. He wanted to stop his suffering. He wanted to hold him, to take him in his arms, to assure him he would never leave him. He wondered if that would comfort him. He hoped it would. But he couldn’t do any of that. He couldn't move. This left him standing on his pretty marble base, only staring.

A useless statue.

It hurt him seeing Yixing like this. He had always thought that Yixing's face had been made only to smile. Maybe it had been a biased opinion, but he couldn't help it. Yixing’s smile was beautiful. He loved it. He loved _him._ He really did. Yixing was so important to him. He was the reason why he existed—literally and metaphorically speaking. He was special. He was… perfect.

Even when he had taken an eternity to complete him.

Even when he had let Junmyeon flirt with him.

Even when he had walked away without looking back at him more than once.

Even when he hadn’t visited him for days and had left him alone.

Even when he had made him wear that horrible olive green curtain.

Even when he was crying on the floor.

He was still perfect.

Yixing was perfect.

Perfect. Perfect. _Perfect._

For him, he was.

And maybe he couldn’t do anything, but at least he would stay by his side. He would never leave him. For as long as Yixing wanted to keep him, he would stay. Because he loved him, and he would do anything to see him smile again.

_Please let me stay with him._

The silence in the studio was almost deafening. His legs had gone numb and his head was throbbing—from all the crying, most likely. He was still lying on the floor, Yixing realized. For how long had he been there? A long time, it seemed. The sun was almost gone. The studio was bathed in a furious orange that would darken any time soon.

He blinked and the first thing his eyes found were the stool next to the discarded chisel. Everything that happened with Junmyeon came back crashing down on him, then. For a moment it felt like it had been a dream, but no. It had happened and there was no way for him to deny it.

Shaking his head, he put the memory away. He moved to get off the floor, even with the constant tingling along his legs. Once he was up, he came face to face with Sehun's hand. It was still open, waiting for someone to hold it. He stared at it, his brain working through his options. He knew he shouldn’t, but… but he wanted to. He wanted it so bad. He needed that comfort the marble always offered him, even if it wasn't right. So he didn't think it any further and followed his heart.

He reached over, letting his fingertips caress the surface. He leaned forward, placing his forehead on the marble tummy, and closed his eyes. Sehun was warm. How could he not when the sun had shined on him all day long?

The knot in Yixing's chest was there once again and he teared up. There was no way for him out of this. How was he supposed to get over this?

He was in love with Sehun.

In love.

With him.

With a statue.

_His statue._

Now talk about being ridiculous…

He couldn't tell that to anyone. Nobody would ever believe him. He knew it didn't have any sense, but that didn't make it any less real. His love was real. His feelings were real. He couldn’t get rid of them that easily, even if he still could sell Sehun and get rid of him. It wasn't that simple. Junmyeon had no idea.

His lips quivered at the thought. He didn’t want to get rid of Sehun. Not yet. Maybe never—

He felt a slight movement at the side of his head, as if someone were… burying their fingers in his… hair…

Yixing immediately jumped back.

He tripped backwards in his shock, barely managing not to fall. His eyes went wide. His breath hitched. His pulse rocketed to the sky. He blinked. And blinked again. And again. And again. He rubbed his eyes with his trembling hands. Then rubbed them again. And again. And again.

Nothing worked.

The image never changed.

In front of him, at the marble base, Sehun was standing still as he had always been. But what had once been white marble was now changing to a light olive tone that resembled a real skin color. And he was looking down. Sehun was looking down. Down. Down at him. Down at Yixing. _Down._ And holy shit, _he was breathing._ His stomach, his chest, were moving at a calm pace; nothing compared to how Yixing was breathing. His hands had moved from their original position. They were now hanging at his sides, as though he didn't know what to do with them. There was a small frown between his eyebrows and he seemed… wary. Confused. Disoriented. Scared.

“Sehun?”

His voice came out shaky and barely louder than a whisper. Yet the studio was so quiet, that even the flight of a mosquito would've been as loud as a blender. There was a moment where nothing happened. But then… _then_ , those lips went upwards and the frown disappeared, and _oh._

That tiny change made Yixing's heart jump.

Sehun raised his foot from his base, attempting to step forward. But he lost his balance, for he wasn't used to moving, even less to walking.

Yixing had never reacted that fast in his life.

He was there in an instant, catching Sehun midair. His hands were around his torso and what was his surprise when he realized Sehun was warm to the touch all over. Warm even where the sunlight hadn’t shined on him. He had thought it had been the residual heat from the sun, but no. That warmth was Sehun’s. It belonged to him alone and this made a shaky breath come out between his lips.

He fixed his eyes on Sehun’s and had to blink yet again, hoping he wasn’t seeing things wrong. But _again,_ the image didn’t change. Those marble eyes he was so used to by now weren’t there anymore. Instead Sehun had a pair of eyes that, with the sunset colors reflecting on them, looked like hot chocolate. Warm, kind, sparkling, sweet, indeed.

As they both, statue and sculptor, stood there, it was as though time had stopped. Yixing was certain it had stopped. It felt like one of those dreams his mind conjured sometimes, where everything felt way too real. And he would’ve believed this was another dream, but his mind wasn’t that powerful. He couldn’t come up with such a vivid dream. So he couldn’t be imagining it, could he? He couldn’t. He _wasn’t._ This was happening.

He didn't dare question it whatsoever, though. He was running high on overwhelm to even try and understand _how_ this was possible.

The first to move was Sehun. He squirmed in his arms and Yixing immediately got what he wanted to do. He helped him straighten up and regretted it as soon as Sehun was gone. Sehun was still staring at him, his eyes darting all over Yixing’s face. It was still surreal to see him moving, blinking, breathing, and _so alive._

“How…?” Yixing whispered, the rest of his question left unsaid. His stomach flipped when Sehun’s eyes crinkled from the corners as he smiled.

“I don’t know,” Sehun said. His voice was soft, and smooth, and better than anything Yixing had ever heard before—and yes, he fell in love with it, too. “I suppose someone heard my prayers.”

Had Sehun prayed? To be alive? To be… a real person?

 _Please don’t take him away from me,_ Yixing had implored. He hadn't meant anything with it. Not really. He only wanted to keep Sehun, his statue, with him. Not once had he considered asking for Sehun to turn from marble to flesh and bone. But still, as he had Sehun in front of him, he could only thank whoever was responsible for it.

“Are you going to give me away?” Sehun asked and the wary expression was back in his face all of a sudden.

Yixing's heart squeezed in his chest—Sehun had heard his fight with Junmyeon. He knew what Junmyeon wanted to do. How much else did Sehun know?

He brought his hands to Sehun's face. One of his thumbs touched where the chisel had scratched him and he pressed his pad to the area. It looked like a small scar over Sehun’s cheek. It only added to the already _surreal realism_ Sehun was right now. Sehun closed his eyes, leaning to the touch. Yixing took his time, then, to run his eyes all over his face. He was mesmerized at how Sehun hadn’t lost any of those details he had carved with so much intent. They were still there, but now they had color and looked even more perfect than before.

“Please let me stay with you,” Sehun whispered.

_Real._

Sehun was real.

He had always been real, but this was a different kind of real.

From the way his hair shined with the almost gone sunlight, to the way his nose stood proud in the middle of his face. From the way his cheekbones looked smooth even with his scar, to the way his lips looked soft, and delicate, and so, so perfect.

They were close enough for the air to mix between them. Yixing wondered how it would be not to have air between them at all. He wanted to know. _He wanted to know._ And maybe he could discover it. He could ask Sehun for permission to discover it. But he wanted to know first what Sehun wanted. That was more important than any kind of desire he could ever have.

“Is that what you want?” he whispered back.

A choked sound escaped Sehun’s throat. Before Yixing could process it, Sehun bumped his nose with his and turned to the side so their lips could come together. Yixing gasped at the sudden movement but didn’t take long to press his lips back against Sehun’s.

It wasn’t anything close to a good kiss, objectively speaking. It was stiff and nothing more than the simple press of lips against lips—which made sense. Given the circumstances, it was obvious Sehun had never been one to kiss something or someone. Yixing was yet to understand the logistics of his transition from stone to person, but he could only guess Sehun had never had any interaction that could come close to _this._ Still, for him it was more than he could’ve ever wished. It produced sparks inside him that exploded like any firework would high up in the sky. It made his legs go wobbly, and put his hands to shake, and his pulse to go a mile per hour. Because he was doing this with Sehun, and that was reason enough for it to turn into the best kiss of his life.

His response only encouraged Sehun, who reached over and buried his hands in Yixing’s hair.

It was perfect. Everything they were experiencing was perfect. It felt right. So damn right. And so pure and so beautiful that it couldn't have happened anywhere but here. Here, where Sehun was. Here, where they had spent all their days together, ever since Sehun had become something more than a marble stone. Here, where Yixing had fallen in love with him, even if it had been hopeless and unrequired.

Yixing was so, so thankful, that as they separated, he swore he would cherish every single moment he got to live with Sehun by his side.

“This is what I want,” Sehun said, his voice shaky.

This made Yixing smile. There was nothing else he wanted but to have this, too. And to know it was a mutual desire only fueled his heart. But as much as he wanted to get lost in this, there was still something his mind didn't want to let go. How was he going to explain it? What would he say? What could he say? It was an important, heavy doubt in his head and he couldn't let it go that easily.

Sehun, as if knowing his train of thought, ran his thumb along Yixing’s cheek and down to his lower lip.

“Don't think,” he said.

As if it were that easy…

Yixing opened his mouth. Sehun shook his head.

“Please don't.”

Yixing couldn't find it in himself to go against it, so he stayed in silence.

Sehun took his time to think his next words. When he had them, though, it was as if a light bulb had appeared above his head. His eyes had a new twinkle in there. One of determination and uncertainty, but more determination than anything else.

“Do you have any leftover marble?” he asked, turning around to look at… the marble base? Then back at Yixing. “I don't know if it'll work, but we could try.”

Yixing fixed his eyes over the base, trying to decipher what was going through Sehun’s mind—he _did_ have a mind, didn’t he?—but nothing came to him. He wasn’t even sure what made sense and what didn't, anymore. Not that he had ever been sure, anyway.

“Alright,” Yixing said. He stared back at Sehun and smiled. He had a hunch everything would be fine. “But we need to get you some clothes, first.”

At this, Sehun scrunched his nose up. “Not the curtain again.”

Yixing laughed and basked in the way Sehun’s smile almost blinded him. This was perfect.

“Not the curtain again,” he repeated. He stood on his tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on Sehun’s cheek.

What was their next step, he didn’t know. But if there was only one thing he was certain of, that was that he wanted to stay with Sehun. He wanted to follow him to the end of the world and even beyond. Here was where he was supposed to be. With Sehun, by his side. Together, whatever it took them. He was ready for this. Because _this_ was perfect.

Perfect. Perfect. _Perfect._

Junmyeon pushed the door open and stepped in. Something crunched under his feet. He raised one foot.

Was that… Was that marble?

“Hello?”

He looked around, but the place was dark. The curtains were drawn together and the only source of light was the door. He opened it completely, letting daylight flood in. Dust particles floated around and a few papers flew from where they were on the floor. He wondered when the last time Yixing had cleaned was. By the looks of it, he guessed it had been a long while by now.

Fixing his eyes on the floor, Junmyeon confirmed that there was marble under his feet. Chunks of it, all in different sizes and shapes, were scattered all over the studio. It seemed like someone had thrown them around, not caring where they landed.

What the hell had happened here?

Yixing normally kept his studio a disaster, but this was way beyond his limits. This was wrong.

Taking out his phone, Junmyeon dialed Yixing’s number— _again._ For like, the hundredth time. He hadn’t been able to contact the man and he was worried. Yes, he knew they weren't on talking terms right now. Yes, he knew Yixing loved to take long periods of time isolated with his art. Yes, he also knew those never lasted forever and eventually, Yixing reached him to let him know he was fine. But the last few months had proved to Junmyeon that this behavior had changed. Not only did Yixing spend his days shut away in this studio, but also was completely obsessed with that stupid statue of his.

Which reminded him— _where_ was that statue?

The marble on the floor was the only trace of the stone in there. The statue itself was nowhere to be seen.

He walked around, looking for something that could explain what had happened, but there was nothing but broken marble. On the floor, and the couch, and the corners, and the shelves.

Everywhere.

He tried again with his phone. As he listened to the line ringing, he stood by the desk. He didn’t need to give it a thorough examination, given it was almost empty. The only thing there was a small piece of marble with some waves carved on it. Under it, a crumpled sheet of paper.

When the line went to voicemail, Junmyeon put his phone down. He took the paper, examining it; reading it. The handwriting was messy, as if written in a hurry, and at first it took him a few moments to understand what it said. But when the words clicked in his head, he frowned and left the studio, trying once again with the phone.

> _Junmyeon,_
> 
> _People say life is full of coincidences. I don't know if it's true, or if it's actually fate acting for us. What I do know is that, whenever an opportunity has presented itself, I’ve never been someone not to take it._
> 
> _My life changed in the last few months. It's different in ways that I can't even begin to explain. I don't want to go into details, because I know that if I do, I’ll only leave you with more questions than answers. I've always left you with more questions than answers. I don't want to do that anymore. So I only want you to know that I appreciate everything you did for me, and that I'm sorry that things had to end this way._
> 
> _If it helps you to know, you were right. I lied to you. I did have a model for the sculpture and I fell in love with him. I want to be with him, but I know here isn’t the place for us. Please don’t look for me. I can assure I’ll be fine. Hope you will be, too._
> 
> _Wish you all the best,_
> 
> _YX._
> 
> _P.S.: As for the sculpture, I went a little bit out of control after our fight and destroyed it. It was an angry impulse. I regretted it the moment I realized the marble, the perfect marble, was lying around on my dirty floor. It’s a shame, I know, but it was only marble. Nobody will ever miss it. I certainly won’t. I don’t need it anymore._

**Author's Note:**

> So. Haha. I wish I could explain where this idea came from, but I honestly don’t remember. After I was done with “Santa Baby”, I went through my wips and found this one forgotten at the bottom of the folder. I’d started writing it back at the beginning of 2019, but for one reason or the other never finished it. Now here we are, almost two years later (omg????), and this kid is finally out for you to read.
> 
> I really, really like Greek mythology, y’know? I’m not an expert, but I do know a bit about some myths—which includes the one about Pygmalion and Galatea. I found it an interesting concept to use for a fic, so yeah. This is the result. Was it weird? Maybe haha but I hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. As always, take care of yourselves! (And go talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/xingminator), if you want!) Bye! ♡


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